You can feel the energy and anticipation in the crowd. The tension is thick and palpable and voluptuous. Think of getting into a car that has been sitting in the sun on a hot summer day. Not so much the temperature but the thickness of the air. This is what you feel all around you.
There must be well over three thousand people crawling through the forest, like some bizarre variant of an ant hive. A perverse twist of nature that only someone with an equally perverse sense of humor could admire and appreciate for it’s sheer absurdity. People on top of people, sweating gyrating and writhing in the darkness.
Darkness, assaulted by barrages of brilliantly coloured light, that continue to intensify as the moments slip by. Perhaps you might try and comprehend how ludicrous the unfolding scene that lies before you is… This might even be a sensible thing to do. If it were not for the fact that seventy five thousand watts of pure, unadulterated bassnectar was forcing it’s way past your custom fit ear plugs. Smothering that little voice in your head, like an elephant pissing on a birthday candle.
This is the kind of sound that when you place your hand on your chest and open your mouth you can feel the bass reverberations course through your body. So powerful that you can’t even feel your own heartbeat. However you can’t really trust your senses at this moment as there was this fiendishly beautiful young woman that offered you something that you may or may not have taken…
But all of that is irrelevant now, you have a mission that you must complete. This is it, the last day of a three day long encounter with “the great American dream”, as Hunter S. Thompson put it. And this is the only thumping set of your first favorite DJ. A DJ that was there for you eight years ago when you first came out to this mayhem and has been there every year since. Of course back then he played all three days and tore the whole place apart each night. Times have changed since then. You are official now, you have a press pass and a much larger camera, the crowd is now several times larger. All you have to do is get a few killer photos of this madness, and you can let what ever that young fiend gave you, take hold, and release yourself to the music.
Light! Light is the crucial element of any photograph. You know that if you can master the light around, you are a god amongst those that wield a camera. Into the fray! First stop the sound and lighting booth…
By now you have done your job well, and gotten to know all the key players that can make things happen. You ask for the lighting tech by name and try to remind him of the conversation you two had in the daylight; About bringing up all the house lights for a moment, so you can get one clean shot of the DJ surrounded by the writhing masses. However he is awash in his own chaos and can’t hear a word you’re saying. Hell, you can’t even hear your own words coming out of your mouth. He gives up and goes back to his station leaving you to fend for yourself.
No matter, you will just have to time it to the lights that are already assaulting the heaving bio mass that is attempting to storm the stage. You have done it many times before, and why should this be any different. Though it would have been nice…
You fight your way up onto one of the overhead catwalks that is suspended between some of the trees. These catwalks are massively overbuilt as they have a tendency to have get clogged with bio mass at times like these. Trying to move on you can sense what it would be like to ride down the arteries of a man that has done nothing but eat the double bacon burger all his life and is due for an infarction. It should be bitter cold, and yet the combined heat of all these bodies pulsing and throbbing to the music keeps the frigid mountain air moist and warm. You elbow your way through the masses of brightly coloured costumes and past the bug eyed sweaty freaks, to a railing with a clear view of the whole scene. As you line up your first shot the music stops…
At first this does not phase you as you are used to DJ’s dropping a few beats to help build up the tension. As you count off the beats in your head you look down to the booth and see that the frantic scurrying going on down there, this is more than the usual fair. Something is not right. You know that the crowd has a combined attention span of a squirrel with ADD hopped up on meth, and if the issue is not sorted out “quick fast” people will wander off to one of the other stages.
As you have a press pass that trumps any all access pass, you figure you may as well put it to use, and find out what the inside story is. You duck-out the side and around the back, to where the hidden stage entrance is and wave your pass. The back stage is jammed with all the usual suspects, and you find someone that looks like they may have some info. It’s not good. One of the main cross-over amps went piff. That magic smoke that makes those little black boxes do what they do. It got out. “piff”
The DJ was on the mic that was feeding into the stage monitors that sounded like a tiny ghetto blaster compared to the full system, trying to ease this new tension in the crowd. You know this is not going to make for the epic photos that you came for, and you start to feel the desire to follow the squirrels off to another stage where you are more likely to trap some of that chaotic energy, like the “ghost busters” do, with their little box they slide along the floor, only you do it with a camera. Off you go…
Forty five minutes later, you remember the other stage (the quiet one) and your mission.
You tear yourself away from this new stage, where you have set yourself up, and head back to what should be a packed stage. The DJ is still on the mic, telling everyone things will be up in just a minute. You can really feel for him. The only headline set that he is going to play, and it is marred by nearly an hour of silence and story-telling. You are too far away from the stage to clearly hear what he is saying. A moment later, a roar goes up from what’s left of the crowd. Followed by a monstrously heavy, bass kicking track that instantly jams everyone back into their state of writhing rapture.
The bass line is like a homing beacon to all the lost squirrels and they pour out of the everywhere. Many of them actually running out of the darkness to be swallowed up and disappear into the swarm.
You work your way around to the back stage and you are astounded by how quickly everything is back at peak capacity. This means you are now going to have to fight your way to get near the actual stage. You stash your coat and any gear you figure you are not going to need, roll-up your sleeves and launch yourself into the fray. Getting through the entourage is child’s play compared with what you could be faced with. You know all too well, that a backstage bouncer on a power trip can totally crunch the buzz and you are hoping that with all of the night’s escapades he is not in a foul mood.
You are in luck! It is the same guy as the last two nights and even though he is not letting anyone else on stage he knows that you are an exception.
The stage is relatively empty from years past… You recall one of the first years that you shot him. That stage was much smaller. Maybe the size of hotel bathroom, if you included the bathtub. You recall how there were so many people crammed onto that stage that there was quite literally no room to move, and the twenty or so people pressed in there (including the DJ) were all moving as one. Like a bed of seaweed caught in a sound current that was rolling-over them like surf.
Back into the here and now, everyone and everything is pressing in; Wanting to be as close as possible to the epicenter.
All there is to see in every direction is people. I don’t just mean on the ground. I mean on everything. They are above you, behind you, below you, everywhere. This is the main event. The time and place that everyone has been waiting for. These are not just your local louts that you might find down at the club, no these are true connoisseurs of bass and they’re going all out. There is young sweaty flesh on display in every direction. Some of it is fully on display, the rest is adorned in some absurd costume. The more absurd the better. Mexican wrestlers, muppets, sex kittens, you name it, it’s all there.
You give a little nod to some of the faces that you recognize and get down to the task at hand. You know the dance all so well, and this is when everything you have practiced over the last year gets put to the test.
As the DJ is on one side of the decks you are able to squeeze out on to the other side of the stage. You mange to get a few shots… The DJ is setting up for the next track and you switch sides with him. You do your best to stay out of the way by perching yourself on the railing, leaving as much space as you can. He lines up the next track and his next action takes you a little off guard.
He comes over and grabs you by the belt loop. You are kind of shocked. There is no way that you can be any more out of the way than you are. Is he going to punt you from the stage? Sure, there is are only a few others on the stage, but you have been shooting him for the past eight years, why would he want to punt you out now?
Your heart begins to race. You have not gotten that shot yet, the “one” that pulls it all together. The one that you know is there and that you have been waiting for.
He pulls you to center stage and cuts the music.
Your mind is spinning, demanding you tell it what you’ve done, and what’s coming next. Your heart is pounding, stage fright is setting in harsh. Now, close to four thousand pairs of eyes are transfixed on you and wondering why there’s no music. You can feel the magic smoke trying to escape your head as you start to sweat.
He picks up the mic and and in a commanding tone he clearly says, “Everyone I want you to put your hands up in the air, this guy has an amazing eye!” The house lights come up and there is a roar from the crowd as the voluptuous sound kicks back in and you reach out with your camera.
This is the moment you have been looking for!
Click…
You smile to yourself and savor the moment for as long as you can, as you know you will remember this for the rest of your life, regardless of whether or not the photo turns out, and it will send shivers down your spine whenever you tell this story…
Village Stage Sunday 2008
